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The Mother's taken brush to sky,
And painted leaves of red and gold.
In hues of riotous display,
She slings her paints with strokes so bold.

The crisping air, the chilling breeze,
They tell the tale of things to be.
But here before the winter's blast,
She gives us this one final spree.

The Autumn here in Ozark hills,
So beautiful beyond compare,
With scenes that bring the heart such joy,
You simply have to stop and stare.

With camera I tramp around,
To try and capture this sweet time.
It doesn't last, but just for now,
We must enjoy this perfect clime.

So here's to Mother's plan so fine,
That gives us all such a delight.
Her glory is an endless line.
Her beauty makes the heart take flight.